Two well-provisioned Royal Navy ships set off from Greenhithe in Kent to the Canadian Arctic in May 1845, ostensibly to search for the North-West Passage. None of the crew made it back to England, and later revelations of what happened to them shocked Victorian society.

In an era when much was still unknown about the polar regions, Britain was a key player in geographical exploration – for geopolitical reasons as much as anything else. One man became forever associated with the tragic failure of such 19th century missions.

Sir John Franklin (1786–1847) was born in the small Lincolnshire market town of Spilsby and went to school in Louth. From a young age he was drawn to the sea and, overcoming parental opposition, joined the Royal Navy at 14 to serve on the warship HMS Polyphemus, and then on survey ship HMS Investigator. As a young man he keenly learnt navigation skills under the captainship of Matthew Flinders, a fellow native of Lincolnshire. From this point his career progressed slowly since he’d done nothing of special note and lacked an influential patron. Then a disastrous overland mission in Canada from 1819 to 1822 earnt him the enduring and unflattering reputation of ‘the man who ate his boots’.

Franklin led this survey mission which started from the mouth of the Coppermine River, having been chosen for his skill with instruments in the astronomical and geographical sciences. Being a naval officer, land-based expeditions weren’t his forte, so the Hudson’s Bay and North West Companies were persuaded to provide a few voyageurs (native experts in canoe transport) to assist.

His decision to delay returning to base proved fatal for 11 of the 19 men who set out with him. With supplies exhausted, they resorted to eating lichen and even boiling boot leather. In this grave situation Franklin and the stronger men carried on to seek help. Meanwhile, voyageur Michel Terohaute had a plan to murder some of those in the weaker following party so that he could eat them!

Despite the disastrous loss of men, plus Franklin’s journal and scientific notes, he’d mapped more coastline. Yet ironically, on his return to England the tales of overcoming adversity won out over criticism, partly because of his character and ability to inspire those under his command. Rather than sinking his career, during his absence he was promoted to commander, then to captain, and was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1823. He became a celebrity, joining the Athenaeum Club where he could discuss intellectual and scientific issues with other distinguished men of the time.

Franklin’s leadership skills, coupled with his navigational and scientific knowledge, didn’t guarantee him constant naval commissions since there were more captains available than ships. A different opportunity came his way years later. In 1837 he took a posting in Van Diemen’s Land (renamed to Tasmania in 1856) as lieutenant governor, to be accompanied and supported by his second wife Lady Jane Franklin. But the sea was where he most wanted to serve again. He only took on this civilian role after getting the Admiralty to confirm it wouldn’t count against him for future naval employment.

Tensions simmered in Van Diemen’s Land because of its dual status, like Australia, as both a penal colony and a free colony of immigrants. The somewhat liberal Franklin had to navigate political conflicts arising from antagonism to colonial rule and the machinations from those sympathetic to his harsh predecessor, Sir George Arthur.

Though Franklin took his duty as governor seriously and did his best to improve the lives of all those living on the island, he was recalled in 1843 after being censured for suspending the colonial secretary, John Montagu. The return to England opened up a chance for him to renew his passion of seafaring and accruing more geographical data. During his time down under he’d kept in contact with key figures who would agitate for another Arctic mission and, crucially, his reputation hadn’t been ruined in the eyes of those in the Admiralty and scientific world who mattered.

The Arctic beckoned for Franklin in 1845, but this time proved to be inescapable even if everyone resorted to eating shoe leather to survive a day or two longer. By then he was close to 60 years old and overweight – unsurprisingly, not everyone believed he was the right choice to lead the expedition. Nevertheless, the Admiralty appointed him to command the expedition that consisted of two steam-powered ships: HMS Terror and HMS Erebus .

The two ships were ideal for polar regions. Originally built as bomb vessels, they already had very strong hulls that were strengthened further to withstand the crushing pressures of ice floes. They had recently served together in the Antarctic from 1839 to 1843 where the benefit of a heating system made life on board more bearable.

Contrary to popular belief, Franklin’s aim wasn’t specifically to try and find a north-west passage, which if it existed would open up an easier trade route from the Atlantic to Asia via the Arctic Ocean. If anything, that would be a bonus of an expedition focused on magnetic and geographical research.

Provisioned for three years since overwintering was inevitable, the ships were well prepared. It was expected that hunting parties could be sent out to kill game such as seals to supplement the diet. Fresh meat helped to ward off scurvy and would be a welcome change from tinned food and salt-cured meat. Canning technology was still relatively new – poor soldering probably resulted in some spoiled food and lead poisoning. Other supplies included hundreds of gallons of lemon juice used as an anti-scorbutic, but over time it lost efficacy.

Spirits were high when the ships departed from Kent on 19 May 1845. Franklin, being a religious man, put his trust in God and wrote that on the voyage they’d not trust in their own strength and judgement, but instead on the ‘merciful guidance of the Almighty’. A few weeks later they crossed the Arctic Circle. In July they stopped in Greenland to take on final supplies from supply ship Barretto Junior .

The exact sequence of events that led to the demise of all officers and crew remains a secret of the dead. In May 1847 all was still well after two winters, something we know from a note discovered inside a cairn in 1859. Other records stated that in 1846 the ships were trapped in ice, and that the following year Franklin died on 11 June.

Their situation continued to deteriorate. In April 1848, with supplies running out and no prospect of the ships getting free of the ice, the survivors left their moribund vessels to travel overland in search of safety. None made it. They endured horrendous hardships in a coldly inhospitable place far from home, to the point that gnawing and extreme desperation led well-disciplined men to apparently break the taboo of cannibalism.

Jane Franklin campaigned vigorously for rescue missions, none of which found the missing ships or any survivors, merely a few relics. The Admiralty waited several years before finally delisting all 129 men in 1854, by which time there was no chance they’d survived.

Thanks to modern maritime technology the mystery of where Franklin’s ships were lost was solved over a century and a half after the expedition began. In 2014 Erebus was found in shallow waters south of King William Island, and two years later Terror off the island’s south-west coast. {